The Bully

I tried to show that I wasn’t scared
Though my knees were ready to give in
I took a stance that indicated strength
With hands ready and aimed at his chin
But his eyes, were locked on Mine
And I just couldn’t stare him back
I knew the trouble I was in
When he roared to begin his attack

How could I have gotten into this mess?
Now he is beginning to hiss
Maybe I could save the day
If I hug him and give him a kiss
My fear made me attack first
And he wasn’t ready for that
As I landed a punch on his nose
And he screamed like a stepped on cat

He looked up at me from the ground
His hands covering his face
The blood seeped through his fingers
As the crowd circled our space
He staggered a little, while getting up
Then stood on the tips of his toes
Took away his hands from his bloody face
Showing everyone his broken nose

A ghostly moan could be heard by all
As he sat back down on the ground
He cried aloud to the departing crowd
Who had more sympathy for a passing hound?
He was all alone as he passed me by
Going home to a fatherless home
I caught up to him and we talked a while
I didn’t want him to be all alone
We met many times after that day
The title “Bully”, was no longer his name
We got on with our lives, in different styles
I recalled this from my Memory Lane

Michael Christopher Daly
Nov.25th, 2007